


Bringing Up Baby

by blancwene



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: New Republic Era - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Poetry, inspired by Robert Frost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-16
Updated: 2007-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-29 23:41:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/692873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blancwene/pseuds/blancwene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mara goads Luke into revealing his thoughts about parenthood. A poem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bringing Up Baby

 

She finds him hidden deep within  
the cargo bay, head bent, hands  
folded, face calm and contemplative.  
Meditating. She grabs a nearby  
crate and scoots across from him,  
taps his bent knees with her foot,  
smiles. Then she goes for the kill.

"Luke, do you hate babies?"  
Satisfied, she watches as his  
head pops up, his eyes widen,  
his mental state shifts from relaxation  
to alarm – defenses rising yet  
struggling to comprehend this  
pre-emptive strike. She feels his thoughts  
bounce from surprise (am I dreaming?)  
to scrutiny (was this foreshadowed?)  
to reaction (how should I proceed?).  
But she interrupts this process,  
striking again with a glint of keen eyes.

"Mirax and I were chatting last month  
about Valin, and Jysella, and Leia's  
kids. And how it's been three years,  
and you've not once brought up  
the topic at all."

"I haven't?"

"No.  
Which leads me to assume that  
you, the Almighty Luke Skywalker,  
don't want any—"

"—I didn't—"

"Or maybe  
the great Jedi Master thinks that  
I'd corrupt children—"

"—You wouldn't!"

"But that  
still presumes that my husband has  
thought about the subject—"

"I have!"

"Then  
why haven't you mentioned,  
in passing – or better yet,  
in serious conversation when you're  
not stuck teaching, and I'm not trapped  
dealing with business? Luke, tell me,  
why haven't you asked me at all?"

He blinks, and she follows his  
thoughts' wild movement, from guilt  
(was I negligent?) to remorse  
(was I selfish?) to finally settle  
on old farmboy sheepiness. "I worry  
that I wouldn't be able to teach  
them – don't laugh, Mara – as I  
should, and that they might fall from  
the Light to confusion, and then into  
Darkness. You see? It's important  
that our son – you're right, or  
we could have a daughter. I didn't  
mean to say that we _couldn't_  
have a daughter, just – what  
was I saying? Oh yes – don't  
distract me – it's vital that  
I do not push them into situations  
where they could be tempted.

"And right now, I'm not sure  
that I could successfully  
handle those duties. I'd rather  
refuse to consider the matter  
than watch my own child fall  
prey to that evil. I'd risk anything  
to prevent that. I'm sorry for  
being so weak – but becoming  
a parent, we could be creating  
another Darth Vader—"

"No, listen  
to me, Luke – that wasn't your  
fault, and you're not to blame. He did  
that himself. And if we have a  
child, you'll have to accept that  
the choice between cruelty  
and candor is a personal  
decision. You only answer for  
yourself, not another. You haven't  
failed if one goes astray."

She stretches a hand out to  
comfort, encourage while reaching  
to soothe his turbulent thoughts.  
Then slowly, he smiles,  
the lines on his forehead  
fading, his shame replaced  
by a look of shy mischief,  
the hint of a smirk crinkling  
the sides of his mouth.

"I thought that you'd been  
rather quiet this past week.  
Mara, does this mean you're—"

"Force, no!  
I just wanted to make sure that  
when it _does_ happen – and it _hasn't_ –  
you wouldn't freak out and  
break part of my ship."

 


End file.
